


Light My Fire

by ViolettaValery



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alien Technology, Canon Divergence, Control Issues, Exhibitionism, Handcuffs, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Angst, M/M, PTSD mentions, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Singing, brief use of ableist language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 19:14:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20431055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViolettaValery/pseuds/ViolettaValery
Summary: Touching alien technology doesn't actually turn humans dark. It just makes them lose all of their inhibitions.Even humans with as many inhibitions as Alex Manes.





	Light My Fire

**Author's Note:**

> A (very, very belated) birthday gift for Jess, who wanted sexy, slutty, uninhibited Alex and Michael making things exploded. Happy birthday, babe! 
> 
> Title taken from a certain song sung in this fic.

“You sure you don’t want to be there for Max embarrassing himself at open mic night?” Michael asks.

Max had lost a bet that he could go a whole day without making a literary reference. He’d proudly made it all the way until evening, though Michael had relished watching him swell up like a puffer fish as he tried to keep each dramatic allusion inside himself. Finally, at dinner, he’d snapped, saying something about the truth being rarely pure and never simple. Why Max had thought he’d be able to get an Oscar Wilde quote past a bisexual man was absolutely beyond Michael, but then again, Max’s brain tended to go out the window when he was trying to impress Liz. Which was always.

Now, Michael absolutely cannot _wait _for Max to pay up by breaking his “no singing” rule. Even if that means he has to put up with an entire night of Max and Liz being disgustingly lovesick all over each other.

Alex huffs in amusement. “I think you’re going to enjoy watching that a lot more than I would. Besides, I have a lot of work that I need to catch up on.”

Michael pouts playfully as he pulls Alex in by the wrist.

“I’ll miss you,” he says, planting a soft kiss on Alex’s lips.

They’re at the stage of being the high school boyfriends that they never got to be – somewhere between friends and lovers. They go on dates, they get to know each other, but their kisses are uncharacteristically chaste. They’ve instituted rules while they work on building a foundation made of more than just heated passion: no touching below the waist, ho hands under clothing, and definitely no sex.

Michael had scoffed at when he first heard them, because they aren’t teenagers with overbearing parents who have to sneak around. Not anymore. But he also knows Alex is right, that they need to work on the parts they _aren’t _good at.

Besides, he still has at least one functional hand.

And, more than that, he revels in what he _does _get to have. Being able to wrap his arms around Alex and peck him with a good morning kiss. Touching his shoulder in reassurance, or holding him close when the world gets too hard and heavy. Kissing him goodbye, however chastely.

He’d never admit it, but Michael Guerin is a romantic sap, and he feels like he’s been given the chance to woo Alex with the kind of courtship neither of them thought they’d ever have.

“I’ll see you tonight, _Michael,”_ Alex says with a soft smile.

“See ya, darlin’,” he drawls, and relishes Alex’s fond, amused smile.

….

They’d spent days trying to choose an appropriate song for Max to sing at the Wild Pony’s next open mic night. Liz had wanted sappy, though Michael pointed out that that was Max on a regular basis; he leaned towards something explicit.

Isobel thought he should sing Taylor Swift.

Finally, they’d settled on an oldie but a goodie that was sure to make Max blush: The Doors’ “Light My Fire.” Max gets up on the stage and shoots a puppy-eyed look at Liz as he mumbles something about serenading a very special girl. He bravely makes it through the first verse until he gets to “girl, we couldn’t get much higher,” at which point he blushes beet-red at the chorus, sending Liz an imploring look.

Liz just giggles delightedly, and beside her, Michael settles in with a beer and watches the spectacle as Max struggles through the chorus.

He gets into it by the end, belting out the repeating chorus with passion, his eyes on Liz only as he implores her to “try to set the night on fire.” And Liz, bless her heart, goes from laughing to enraptured, making moon eyes at his brother, until the whole thing goes from simply amusing to slightly embarrassing for both people involved.

Finally, the ordeal is over, and Michael gets up to get them all a round of drinks. He’s going to be teasing Max about this for _months, _but he’s not a _complete _dick. He’ll start tomorrow.

He’s leaning casually against the bar, almost instinctively tilting his hips and putting his belt buckle on display, when someone comes up to lean on the bar beside him.

He doesn’t spare them a glance, at first – Alex is waiting for him at home, and he’s not interested in looking at anyone else. But then the man leans _very _close, and Michael turns to tell the asshole in the leather jacket that he’s taken, to see that the asshole in question is – Alex.

Alex looks like pure _sin. _Clad all in black, he looks like he’s taken a trip down memory lane to the rebellious seventeen-year-old Michael first fell in love with. But whereas that boy had drowned in baggy layers of black, at times unsure in his growing body, this one sported skintight jeans and a black top that revealed firm muscles honed by a decade of military service. The black eyeliner was back too, and his hair was a messy bedhead atop his head. And in his left earlobe glitters an earring.

Michael’s heart stutters in in his chest.

“Hey, cowboy,” Alex practically purrs. “Fancy meeting you here.”

It takes Michael a few seconds to find his misplaced voice, and when he does, it’s rusty and hoarse. “Alex. What are you doing here?” is about all he manages.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Alex says, and if Alex was lying about having to work to surprise him like this, Michael’s got absolutely no problems.

“Well, uh, consider me surprised.” Brilliant, Guerin. Fucking spectacular use of that genius brain.

Alex leans even closer, until their bodies are practically pressed together, and Michael can feel the heat of Alex against him.

“And happy to see me, perhaps?” Alex asks, arching an elegant eyebrow.

And, fuck, a few more seconds of them pressing against each other and Michael’s going to be in for a very awkward walk through the bar.

“You wanna get out of here?” he suggests.

“Later. I have another surprise for you.” Before Michael can ask what it is, Alex slides gracefully away, but not before purring in his ear, “I’m definitely in the mood to save a horse tonight, though.”

He leaves Michael blinking dumbly at the spot Alex had just occupied and desperately trying to keep his now-liquid brain from leaking out his ears.

He takes a few moments to collect himself before taking their beers back to the table and rejoining Liz and Max.

“What’s Alex doing here?” Liz asks, having obviously spotted him. “I thought he said he had to work?”

“Surprising me, apparently,” he responds, not meeting Max’s probably all-too-knowing eyes.

Before she can say anything else, the emcee announces Alex as the next performer. Alex takes the stage like he was born to be there, clutching a guitar and looking like all of Michael’s dreams from the past decade combined into one and come to tempt him in a Roswell dive bar.

“Good evening, Roswell!” Alex calls out, and is it just Michael, or has his voice gone down an octave? “Tonight, I’d like to serenade a special someone with a song y’all have probably heard before, but not like _this._”

Longing chords fill the air as Alex begins to sing.

_I love your face_  
You love the taste  
That sugar babe, it melts away

“_Beyoncé?_” Liz asks incredulously.

“Um,” Michael offers eloquently as Alex begins sings about how he likes it wet.

Michael desperately gulps down the cold water on the table and, for once, is grateful for Max being the protective mother hen who’s making sure they all hydrate. The water does nothing for his burgeoning hard-on, though, but it at least gives him something to do with his hands.

_Keep me coming, keep me going, keep me coming, keep me going_

Alex abandons the guitar to grab the microphone with a ring-adorned hand while the other glides up and down its shaft in smooth, suggestive strokes. He’s practically giving the microphone a handjob, and it happens to be just the way Michael likes them.

Michael shifts in his seat, his jeans suddenly feeling much tighter as his dick reminds him that Alex’s hands could be doing that to _him. _

_Keep me humming, keep me moaning, keep me humming, keep me moaning_

Alex undulates his hips as he sings, reminding Michael of the way Alex likes to fuck him sometimes, long and slow and deep. He’s holding the microphone so close to his lips that every time he opens his mouth to form a vowel it looks like he’s getting ready to swallow it down.

Michael attempts to remember how to breathe. That’s about all he thinks he can manage right now; his higher brain functions are so absent he doesn’t think he’d be able to tell someone what three times three is.

_Don't stop loving 'til the morning, don't stop loving 'til the morning_

Alex jumps down from the stage and winds his way through the bar, unapologetically playing the room, but his gaze always returns to Michael as he gets closer and closer to him. Finally, he saunters up to Michael as he reaches the end of the song, and, before Michael knows what’s happening, Alex is planting a knee beneath his spread legs on the chair and tugging his head backwards by the curls.

“_Don't stop screaming, freaking, blowing_,” he sings directly to Michael, and then proceeds to kiss him in full view of everyone who had been watching the performance. Which was everyone in the Wild Pony.

The moment Alex’s lips touch his, all the reasons why this is a terrible idea fly out of his head. Around Alex, his genius IQ routinely drops down to that of a child, and Michael kisses back without a second thought. They kiss, and kiss, and kiss, for what feels like a lifetime, until they both come up for air, gasping.

Behind Alex, a voice – Wyatt Long or Hank or one of the other dozen racists who for some reason decided to make themselves regulars at the Pony – shouts something decidedly unflattering about them.

The world comes crashing back, and Michael tenses, moving to rise and reaching instinctively for Alex as he tries to assess the threat. He curses himself. What had he been _thinking_? And what had _Alex _been thinking? _This, _this is why he and Alex didn’t do this in public.

But Alex seems unperturbed. He turns coolly and walks up to Wyatt Long while Michael’s insides twist uncomfortably and every part of him screams _wrong wrong wrong. _

“Say it again,” Alex challenges.

Around them, the bar has gone entirely silent, everyone watching, rapt, at the inevitable fight unfolds. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Maria approach uncertainly, while Max comes up beside him.

“Why?” Long demands. “You think a cripple can win a fight against me?”

Alex decks him. Long stumbles, but manages to get a punch in before Max and Michael are dragging them apart, Max wrangling Long and threatening arrest while Michael pulls Alex outside. He’s thankfully nursing nothing more than a split lip, and Michael is hit with a dizzying flashback to prom.

“What the hell are you doing, Alex? Are you drunk?” Michael demands. “Are you all right?” he adds with concern. 

Alex just laughs, pulling him against the car. “Perfectly peachy,” Alex says, letting his _p_s pop. “And nope. Not drunk.” Their faces are inches apart, and there isn’t an ounce of alcohol on his breath. But he does look radiant, exuding lightness as he grins at Michael.

“High? You’re on something, Alex. This isn’t you. Starting barfights is _my _job, remember?”

Except that Alex isn’t the type to go on a bender. One of the upsides of getting to know each other better was talking, which means Alex has told him about the PTSD, the nightmares, the therapy, the medications. He’s pretty sure Alex would have told him, or that he’d have _noticed, _if things had gotten so bad that Alex needed to self-medicate by getting high as a kite.

But Alex also wasn’t the type to provoke others with his unabashed difference. He hadn’t been for ten years.

“Just plain old me.” Alex cocks his head. “I thought you liked this me?”

Michael sighs. “Get in the car, Alex,” he says wearily. Whatever Alex did, Michael will have to wait until it’s out of his system before he tries to talk about it.

“So bossy.” Alex pouts, but makes no protest of being told what to do, and again Michael’s gut screams _wrong wrong wrong. _

The drive to the cabin is silent, Alex making no more attempts at conversation. Once they arrive, Alex beats him to the door and walks in ahead of him, slamming him against it as soon as it’s closed and devouring his mouth in a kiss.

Michael responds on pure instinct. Alex is kissing him, and the proper reaction is ingrained in his very being. He kisses back despite the scene in the bar, because his body doesn’t know how to do anything else when Alex kisses him. It takes several seconds for his brain to process that Alex is tugging him towards the bedroom, hands roaming shamelessly everywhere. By that point, he’s already half-hard, because even after a decade, nothing can get his dick on track like Alex.

“Alex – “ he pulls away.

“Use your powers on me.”

Michael gapes at him and ruthlessly squashes the jolt of excitement that zings through him.

There’s one other rule on the list: no using his powers on Alex, unless he’s in danger. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why: the man who came out the other side of two wars didn’t like giving up control. And an invisible force controlling his movements from a distance? That was the very definition of not having control.

So Michael had promised.

“This isn’t what you want, Alex,” he manages, while his dick uncooperatively reminds him that it is what Michael wants, at least.

And Alex seems to know it. “No? But it _is _what you want. You could force me to my knees…” Alex does as he says, sinking onto the floor. “You’ve wanted me here for a long time, haven’t you?”

He has, but it’s been a long time since Michael has been with an Alex who was willing to do it. Their first time together, Alex had sunk to the floor and looked up at Michael with wide, dark, wanting eyes. He’d guided Michael’s hands into his hair, and Michael his fingers in the strands in gentle encouragement as Alex gave him the best orgasm of his life, to date.

After Alex’s first deployment, Michael had found out the hard way that his lover wasn’t that wide-eyed, uninhibited teenager anymore. In the heat of the moment, he’d been too rough and held Alex down, only to end up on his ass, easily pinned down by a trained soldier. Under other circumstances, he might have found it _hot, _but in that situation, it had been awkward as hell.

He’s been gentle ever since, their sex after the high-school reunion the roughest he’d been in years.

But Alex hated being treated like he was fragile and breakable, so mostly, Michael had let Alex take control. Had let Alex ride him, had surrendered his own movements to Alex’s strong hands on his hips when he’d ridden him, had let Alex force him to _his _knees and use him as he wanted.

Now, Alex blinks up at him from the floor with innocent doe eyes, and Michael’s blood curdles at how _wrong _it is.

Alex must see the concern on his face, because he sighs, resigned. “At least help me get up, then, will you?” he asks.

Alex has gotten better at asking for help, especially around Michael, so he offers a hand. But the second Alex is on his feet, he sends them both tumbling onto the bed, pulling Michael atop him. Michael tries to move, but finds himself locked into position with Alex’s legs around him.

Damn the goddamn Air Force for everything it ever did to Alex.

“Alex – “ he protests. He attempts to disentangle himself, but Alex doesn’t let him go. In fact, the only way he _can _get out of this predicament, he realizes, is to use his powers.

“You want me like this, don’t you?” Alex’s voice is low and sultry, and the sound thrums in Michael’s veins. Alex tilts his head to the side and crisscrosses his wrists above his head, the invitation evident. “Hold me down and have your way with me, like I know you’ve been _yearning _to.”

He’s tried to shove those desires as far down as he can, but he’s never been able to make them go away. In his weakest moments, he imagines Alex just like this: below him, at his mercy, pliant and willing, Michael’s hands or his powers holding him down.

But no recreational drug would ever make Alex offer this. They’d lower his inhibitions, not make him seek out the last think he would ever want.

And they certainly wouldn’t turn Alex into a mind reader, seemingly seeing into Michael’s very soul and offering him the deepest desires he’s hidden there.

His blood chills at the other options that come to mind. Alien influence? Possession?

“This isn’t what you want, Alex,” he repeats. He’s still trapped by Alex, pressed against him, and arousal floods through Michael at the closeness, his body clearly not getting the memo after that this is a terrible idea. He tries frantically to hold on to at least a shred of sanity and search for a way to discover what’s wrong with Alex.

“Oh, but it is,” Alex purrs. “These desires, they’re _mine. _Just buried deep, deep down. Until now.” His neck is bare beneath Michael’s gaze, practically asking for a mark. “Hold me down, Michael. Mark me. Let them all know who I belong to. I can feel how much you want to.”

A lightbulb shatters.

_Shit. Shit shit shit. _He’d been so focused on not ravaging Alex beneath him that his control on his powers had started to fray at the edges. Except –

Alex hadn’t flinched at the explosion. Alex just blinks up at him calmly, knowingly, and any last shred of doubt Michael may have been harboring dissipates.

This isn’t _his _Alex.

“Take what you want, Guerin,” Alex offers.

This isn’t his Alex, and Michael has to figure out who or _what _did this to him. And since it’s freaking Roswell, the explanation could be any number of things, most likely alien in nature.

The rest of the lightbulbs in the cabin explode one by one, and in that instant, Michael realizes there are only so many variables he can control. His power is leaking through too many gaps, and he has to figure out what happened to Alex, _fast_.

Alex flips them over in one dizzying movement and straddles him. “That’s it,” he murmurs encouragingly. “Let go, Michael. You know we both want it.”

“Alex…” Michael groans. He closes his eyes, but Alex is relentless, rubbing himself over Michael’s already hard cock.

He’s starting to think being experimented on by the Air Force might be a less agonizing torture than this.

“What did you do, Alex?” he asks, wincing at how wrecked his voice sounds. “What made you like this?”

“I keep telling you, this _is _me.”

“No, it isn’t. It hasn’t been in a long time.”

“Well.” Alex cocks his head to the side. “Maybe I rediscovered a long-lost part of me.” He gives Michael a seductive smile. “I’ll tell you…. if you kiss me.”

Michael groans. But, all things considered, the simplest way to fix this starts with Alex telling him what happened in the first place.

He’s just terrified of how much he wants what Alex is offering.

“All right,” he agrees reluctantly, reaching for Alex, who bends over him. Instinctively, Michael’s hand goes into Alex’s hair as they kiss, and when Michael rolls them over so that he’s on top, Alex doesn’t resist him.

Breaking the kiss, Michael drops his head, resting it on Alex’s collarbone as he tries to get hold of himself. “Well?” he asks.

“I found a piece of your spaceship in the cabin and touched it.”

Michael jerks up until he can see Alex’s face, but in that moment, he looks open and honest, not a trace of the finesse with which Alex has been playing him all night.

_Fuck. _

“And where is it now?” he asks, shoving the dozen questions that spring up to the back of his head. He’ll figure out _how _Alex got a spaceship piece later.

“In my office. Now come back here,” Alex whines, trying to pull him in by the curls.

Michael’s mind runs through the possibilities of how to get himself out of his current predicament long enough to go problem-solve. Using his powers comes to mind as the first and easiest solution. But no. He promised Alex, and though this Alex wouldn’t mind, the real one would. And right now, Michael can think of very few things worse than violating him. 

But this Alex also seems willing to give up control. He’s been in charge so far, putting Michael where he wanted him – but only as a way to coax him into taking control.

“No,” he says, and watches Alex’s eyebrows shoot up as a smile breaks over his face.

“That’s it,” Alex urges. “I’m yours. Tell me how you want me, Michael.”

“Stay here,” he orders. He moves to disentangle himself from Alex and rise, and Alex – lets him. Alex lies still, watching Michael through hooded eyes. His legs spread, his arms above his head, hair a mess, he looks like sin, like he _knows _he’s a temptation Michael can’t resist.

Michael strides into Alex’s office, prepared to have to upend it searching for the spaceship piece, but it’s just there, on his desk, glittering.

Another piece of evidence that Alex isn’t himself, Michael things. Alex wouldn’t normally be so careless.

He picks it up and it swirls with colors and symbols, just like every time he touches a piece of his ship. Nothing happens, of course, and he thinks aliens must be immune to its effects.

Another question to deal with later. Right now, he needs to deal with reversing those effects, and he has no idea where to start.

Alex is still where Michael had put him when he returns to the bedroom. Statue-still. Pliant.

Michael closes his eyes and forces himself to exhale slowly.

“So, you just touched it?” he asks.

Alex cocks his head.

“Yes. Now come here,” he pouts, though he makes no move to change his position.

Well, he might as well start with the simplest possible solution.

Sighing, Michael crawls on top of Alex again and prays that Alex will forgive him for this. Leaning down, he takes Alex’s lips in a deep kiss, setting the piece on the bed beside them. Alex doesn’t spare it a glance, focusing instead on returning the kiss.

“Will you do something for me?” Michael asks gently.

“Anything,” Alex breathes. “You can have anything you want.”

Micheal reaches for the piece and runs his fingers over it. “Touch this for me.”

And again Alex obeys without question.

The moment his fingers touch the alien metal, however, Michael feels Alex’s body tense beneath him. His expression goes from lax to concerned, and his brows drawing together in a frown.

“Guerin?” he asks.

Michael scrambles to get off him. And off the bed, for good measure, taking the spaceship piece with him just in case.

“Do you remember what happened?” he asks. Alex sits up slowly, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed.

“Yes. That was – “His face goes through a complicated array of emotions.

“Weird,” Michael supplies. Alex gives an unamused chuckle.

“All right, well, don’t touch this again,” Michael says. “I’ll call Liz in the morning, and we’ll see if we can run some tests on it, figure out what it did to you – “

“I know what it did to me,” Alex says. “I mean, I don’t know _how, _scientifically, but – it’s like red kryptonite for Clark Kent, except apparently it only affects humans. So it made me ask for things – “

“Alex,” he interrupts. “If we’re going to have a conversation about the things you asked for, I need a _really_ cold shower. Or, you know, to go dunk my head in the Arctic Ocean.”

“No, _listen._” Alex stands, and Michael can’t help noticing the way his skintight clothing stretches over his muscles as he moves. Because that’s exactly what his brain needs to be focusing on right now. “It seemed to remove my inhibitions, so I did things I wouldn’t otherwise do. I asked for things that I’d never have the courage to seek out otherwise. Things I _want._”

Michael stares.

“Things you _want_?” he repeats incredulously.

Alex sighs again. “Giving up control scares me more than I can tell you, even if you’re the one I’m giving it to,” he says, like it isn’t something Michael already understands on a deep and fundamental level. He’d been in enough abusive foster homes to understand that terror that burrows itself into your very bones, makes itself part of your being. Human and alien evolution seem to be similar on this point: survival instinct precedes any acts of cognition, any recognition of another person as someone you _trust. _So when Alex had first confessed that he couldn’t give up control, even to Michael, he hadn’t been hurt that he wasn’t the exception to that rule, because he _understood. _

“But I _want _to give up control to you,” Alex continues, and just like that, all of Michael’s clarity is gone. Flailing, he seeks purchase, and finds it only in Alex’s eyes, the pupils still dark from a haze of arousal, but always full of that warmth that Michael can bask in. “I want to be in your power. Hell, I want you to use your powers on me,” Alex admits. He takes a deep breath and plows on before Michael can interject one of a million questions. “And I think, maybe, that’s part of why I wanted to wait, made us have all those rules. Because when I’m with you I already feel stripped bare and vulnerable, and I wanted even _more, _and it terrified me. So I just – put it off. Ran away from it like I always do, and told myself that I just needed time, or that I’d get to a better headspace, or, well.” He shrugs. “All the other bullshit reasons I always told myself for walking away.”

He can’t stop staring, looking for the lie in Alex’s eyes. Maybe Alex isn’t as free of alien influence as he thought; maybe this is all just part of the same elaborate plot -

“You want all those things?” he asks shakily. “You want me to be in control?”

“Yes. And I know you do too, even though you’ve never said a word.” Michael had honestly thought he was better at hiding it, but apparently he’s underestimated how well Alex can read him. “And I can’t say it’ll happen overnight, obviously, but,” his eyes meet Michael’s in a nervous, tentative gaze. There’s nothing calculated in the vulnerability shining in his eyes. “What happened tonight, it showed me just how much I can trust you. I was offering you everything you wanted, and you didn’t take it.”

“Alex, I would never take advantage of you.” 

“I know. I _know _that, Michael,” he soothes. “But having a very practical, very undeniable demonstration is the kind of proof my stupid subconscious can latch on to. So if we take it slowly, I think maybe I can give you some of those things you want so much.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees. “And,” he adds with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, “maybe we could start tonight? It’d be a shame to let all this effort go to waste.” He gestures at his getup.

Michael can think of very few things he’s ever wanted more. He’s _still _half-hard in his pants even after their conversation, and Alex hasn’t gotten any less attractive for all his teary confessions.

“You sure we’re ready for this?” he asks, because Alex has been the one who always pulls them back from the brink whenever their kisses get too heated and their hands start roaming. “You sure it’s all out of your system?” he adds.

“Yes. I think it’s time.” He gives Michael a moment to process before swiveling them around and pushing him backwards onto the bed. “Take off your clothes,” he orders, and yeah, Alex is _definitely _back to normal.

“Bossy,” Michael comments, delighted. He complies quickly, shucking his clothes and then lying back to watch Alex undress himself. He peels off the skin-tight mesh and black jeans in a tantalizing show, but keeps the prosthetic on as he crawls onto the bed. By the time Alex settles atop him, Michael’s fully hard again, and his heartbeat thunders in his chest at the prospect of sex with Alex again after months of abstinence. With them both naked, his body sings at every point of contact, seeking to touch every inch of skin.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asks as his hands trace up Alex’s chest. He can barely concentrate enough to use his powers to open the bedside drawer where he knows Alex usually keeps the lube. 

But Alex just winks at him and reaches behind himself. His eyelashes flutter and he lets out a contented exhale, and a moment later, Michael sees that he’s holding a butt plug. A neon green one, the same color as the stupid alien heads at the museum.

“Holy shit, Alex,” he croaks, his cock pulsing at the thought that Alex has been open and ready for him this entire time.

“The sluttier me came prepared,” Alex explains needlessly, tossing it onto the bed and rubbing his ass over Michael’s dick, slow, teasing movements that remind Michael how very close he is to being inside Alex.

So close, and yet so far, if that’s what Alex decides.

“Alex, _please._” They’ve established long ago that Michael, at least, isn’t above begging.

Without warning, Alex sinks down, lips parting in a gasp at being so suddenly full. Instinctively, Michael bunches his hands in the sheets, lest they come up to grasp Alex’s hips in a bid for control.

But Alex grasps his hands and splays them over his hips as their gazes meet. There is a question and vulnerability and trust and uncertainty in that gaze.

Michael nods, understanding, and keeps his hands where Alex had put them as Alex rides him. He wants to grip tight, wants to press bruises into skin, even, but contents himself with splaying his hands wide and relishing the movement of strong muscles beneath them. He greedily drinks in the sight of Alex, uninhibited, hand furiously stripping his own cock as he bounces up and down with abandon.

“Alex,” he whispers reverently. “_Alex._”

Alex meets his eyes as he comes, shamelessly painting Michael’s bare chest with his climax.

“Come inside me,” Alex orders, and Michael can’t do otherwise than what Alex asks of him. He fills Alex with his climax and then tugs him down to lie atop him, both of them disregarding the mess on his skin.

Later, after Michael spent what felt like hours relearning every inch of Alex’s body with his fingertips, they lie face to face looking at each other, hands and legs tangled together.

“I’m sorry,” Alex whispers softly.

“For what?”

“I know I’m not easy to be with,” Alex says. “Everything I put you through, and there’s so much I can’t give you – “

“Alex,” Michael interrupts. “I love you. _You _make me happy. And I’d rather have this, with you, despite all our history, than something easy with someone else.”

“Promise?”

Michael brings Alex’s hand to his lips and leaves a kiss on every knuckle. “I promise,” he whispers conspiratorially.

“I love you too.”

(Several Weeks Later)

“I want to try something,” Alex says, surprising Michael one day in the Airstream that he barely ever visits anymore.

Handcuffs dangle from one of his fingers.

“Did you steal those from Max?” Michael asks.

Alex wrinkles his nose. “No, Guerin. Believe it or not, you can actually buy these. On the Internet. For recreational purposes.”

“Right. You know I can get out of these?”

Alex leans forward, and Michael’s eyes flutter closed in expectation of a kiss. But Alex keeps his lips an inch from Michael’s as he purrs, “you made a promise about using your powers, Guerin.” 

Michael’s eyes snap open. Alex has slowly been learning to yield control to him, but he hasn’t broached the subject of Michael’s powers, so as far as Michael was concerned, his previous promise still stood.

Still, his promise hadn’t included not using his powers _at all, _just not on Alex.

They both seem to be willing to overlook semantics right now, though.

“All right,” he agrees, reaching for the cuffs and fastening them around a wrist.

“Behind your back,” Alex directs. Michael raises an eyebrow but obeys wordlessly. The cuffs click closed, and with his hands wrenched behind his back, his hips just forward, putting his belt buckle on prominent display.

Alex licks his lips and Michael smirks. Alex has never hidden just what the cowboy getup does to him, and since they’ve gotten back together, his belt buckle collection has grown to almost a dozen. Alex has joked that he can tell how horny Michael is based on how big the belt buckle he’s wearing is.

He’s not entirely wrong.

Michael watches through heavy-lidded eyes as Alex reaches forward and divests him of both belt and buckle, letting them drop to the floor with a clatter. Alex makes quick work of his jeans, too, and Michael lets himself be stripped without ceremony.

Then Alex sinks down to his knees.

“_Alex,”_ Michael breathes.

“Don’t move,” Alex orders.

It’s all he can do to keep himself still, to keep his powers in check, and to keep his orgasm at bay all at once. He grips the counter with his hands and makes every unabashed sound he knows, and then some he discovers just for the occasion, as Alex uses every trick in his book and then some.

At least it’s a Sunday, and no one’s going to come by the junkyard, so there’s no one to hear him but Alex and the rusting shells of several dozen cars.

“Alex,” he says frantically as Alex does something particularly talented with his tongue. “Alex, I can’t control – “

But Alex just doubles down on whatever he’s doing, and Michael squeezes his eyes shut. He hears the window crack, but the fact that he’ll have to fix it is the farthest thing from his mind.

Alex pulls off and looks up at Michael, lips puffy and red and eyes lust-blown.

“Let go, Guerin,” he coaxes.

It takes all of Michael’s willpower not to rut forward, sheathing himself and coming down Alex’s throat. As is, he lets Alex lean forward and guide the pace as he takes him all the way down. He sobs with need as he forces himself to stay still and let Alex finish him off and swallow down the climax that explodes out of him.

Honestly, he’s surprised that’s the only thing that explodes.

He’s shaking, practically holding himself up on the counter, eyes squeezed shut, when Alex rises and cradles his face in two gentle hands.

“Michael,” he says softly, and Michael’s eyes snap open.

“Can I touch you now?” he asks hoarsely.

“Of course, love,” Alex says, and Michael lets the handcuffs fall off his wrists with a clink. He draws Alex flush against him, going for a kiss and tasting himself on Alex’s lips. But Alex’s hard-on presses insistently against his hip, reminding him that they’re not finished here yet.

“Do you want me to – “

“Mmm,” Alex pretends to ponder, though Michael has no doubt that he has every second of this planned out. “I want to come with you inside me. Do you think that could be arranged?”

Michael has never been happier to be an alien with literally inhuman stamina.

“Yeah,” he says. “I think that could be arranged.”


End file.
